


Competitve Streaks

by ratedgrandr



Series: It's a Revolution, I Suppose [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Chess, F/M, Oops, lolol who knew, that I could make a game of chess so sexual?, this wasn't supposed to be E/E
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratedgrandr/pseuds/ratedgrandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras and Eponine get together and play a game of chess, it never ends well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competitve Streaks

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-verse, m'dears! This doesn't have to be taken as E/E shipping, just a bit of competitive fun between the two!!!

If she had known that no one would be at the cafe today save him, Éponine wouldn't have come.

It wasn't that she didn't like Enjolras, persay, but more so that they didn't know each other and she rarely had much to say to him. After all, he was a leader of a revolution she was skeptical of, and all he thought of her was that she was Marius's silly friend who hounded him quite forcefully.

She could feel his eyes on him, steely and cool, and immediately the Thenardier girl fidgeted, twisting her hands in her skirt and averting her eyes towards the tiled floor. "Have you seen Marius, Monsieur?" She asked in a simple, quiet voice, one that Enjolras had to focus quite intently on to hear over the sounds of the other patrons.

"Not since last night, no." It was a simple answer, but Éponine always knew Enjolras to be straightforward when he wasn't making lavish speeches that ignited the air with an electric current, speeches that caused your heart's pace to sprint and painted longingly beautiful pictures through your mind, reminding you that freedom could be just around the corner if you only stretched out your reach far enough… But it was child's play, Ponine thought as she furrowed her brow and looked up at the man.

Her breath caught, then, as a teasing little smile curled up the corners of her lips. "You're playing chess." It was a statement, not a question, and immediately, without much thought, Ponine slid into the chair opposite Enjolras. The golden haired revolutionary pursed his lips and pondered his move.

"Yes." The fact that she had pointed out the obvious and he disliked it was clear entirely through his tone. Ponine's fingers itched as she watched his slender, elegant digits caress each piece thoughtfully before making a move.

"Might we play? I learned this game long ago, when I was a child and --" immediately she cocked a brow at his quizzical expression, one that spoke thousands of words, each screaming his doubt in her abilities. "What, are you afraid you will get beaten by a girl, monsieur?" she cooed as her whole posture re-situated. Her shoulders squared, back arched, fingers laced together and a coy, hungry kind of grin rolled over her lips. She saw the calculations running through Enjolras's eyes, watched the way he hesitantly reached forward to move another piece then recoiled. He couldn't turn down a challenge, she saw it in the way those piercing eyes sized her up. "I'm but a child to you, aren't I? Do you really believe I have any chance at winning?" Her voice was low and smooth, sweet as honey and rather hypnotic, luring him into a false sense of security as he re-set the pieces and grinned triumphantly, like he'd already won this game.

Éponine made her first move, not even flinching. Enjolras pondered for a few moments, his thoughts calculating and his fingers steepled as he stared down his perfect nose, seeking out the correct move as if the chess pieces themselves would whisper to him. The ways in which they played contrasted perfectly, much as their personalities seemed to do. Éponine's moves were rash, spontaneous, and occasionally her fingers hovered, indecisive, before making her strike. Enjolras, on the other hand, was always cool, like the marble he seemed to be chiseled from. He kept a poker face, never once cracked in his passive expression, and continuously took his time as if he were making love rather than playing chess. He enjoyed the competition, always made the least obvious move that would otherwise be overlooked, and never played with even a trace of hesitancy.

It was a close game, one that thrilled both of them. Éponine was perched precariously on the edge of her seat, feet tucked up on the rung of the chair, hands constantly itching for her turn. Her shoulders hunched slightly, and an impish kind of grin never left her features except when she furrowed her brow and poked her tongue out in complete concentration. Enjolras sat ram rod straight, his fingers steepled when not gently caressing the stone pieces. His thoughts never showed through his cool composure, though his eyes always danced with the truth behind his facade.

It wasn't until Éponine called 'check!' victoriously, taking his queen, that the man's expression broke, the marble cracking in utter disbelief.

"That can't be." He shook his head as the whole game replayed before his eyes. He should have seen it coming and yet… He let out a huff of frustration and reset the board. "You can't have done that. You've cheated. Even Combeferre can't beat me at chess," Enjolras stated matter-of-factly.

Éponine leaned across the table, her eyes dancing wickedly, and shook her head. "You know I won fair and square… it's killing you, in't it?" she purred in what he could only name as a seductive kind of tone, one that he found distracting and completely arousing.

For a moment they sat, eyes meeting over the board, Éponine bracing against the table, blue eyes harshly staring into muddy brown pools that danced in complete glee. Finally Enjolras scoffed, ran a hand through his wild blonde curls held together by a single ribbon, and reset the board with a smirk.

"Rematch." He demanded in a sinfully bitter voice.

"Well, well, looks like the school boy quite likes a whipping, hmmmm?" She purred as she made her first move.


End file.
